


Relative Values

by Scribblesinink (Scribbler)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Pre-Canon, Sockfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-01
Updated: 2007-06-01
Packaged: 2017-10-04 20:35:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scribbler/pseuds/Scribblesinink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At Stanford, Sam strives for normal, but even normal has its mysteries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Relative Values

**Author's Note:**

> Title and summary by Tanaqui. Also, many thanks for the critical eye and great beta services!

"I swear, Sam, there's some evil creature hiding in that basement."

Sam's head snapped up from the law text lying open before him. Heart thumping against his ribs, he stared at Jessica and stammered, "E—evil?" He struggled against his first instincts of grabbing the salt from the kitchen cupboard and the curved knife hidden in the top drawer of the bedroom cabinet, and going down to the building's basement.

"Yes." Jessica's eyes flashed angrily, and she blew stray bangs from her forehead with an impatient puff of breath. A quiet Sunday morning: they'd lazed about in bed for several hours before getting up, and she still hadn't dressed yet. Sam couldn't help but look at her and marvel at his luck in finding her. Long, tanned legs disappeared beneath the faded soft cotton of a pair of old boxer shorts—wait a moment, those were his!—while a skimpy white T-shirt with Looney Tunes characters rode up enough to show a flash of skin. Then his gaze was drawn to the plastic basket resting on her hip, overflowing with clean laundry.

Jessica upended the basket on top of his books, sending a cascade of clothes across the table, and started sorting through them with quick, angry gestures. "See?" She held up a couple of socks: a black one in her left hand, a green one in the right. "I put them in in pairs. Now? Only one of each left."

Relief so strong that his bones turned to jello washed over Sam. He slouched back in his chair. Laughter rumbled from him, earning him a stern glare from Jessica.

"It's not funny," she snapped.

Sam bit his lip to hold back the smile that threatened to escape. He got up and walked around the table. Taking the socks from Jess and dropping them on the table behind him, he took her hands in his own and pulled her close. Brushing his lips against her hair, he muttered, "It's all right. I'll mix and match."

Jessica made a sound that hovered somewhere between a snort and a laugh, and pulled back so she could look up at him. "Sam Winchester. I thought I'd cured you of that habit."

He grinned contritely. When you had lived half your life in a 1967 Chevy Impala, driving from town to town to hunt evil, doing your laundry in motel washrooms or public laundromats, you were bound to lose a couple of socks along the way. He suspected that a breadcrumb trail of abandoned Winchester socks tracked their movements across half the continent. And, after a while, it no longer mattered: you made do with what was available from the trunk of the Impala, and hoped the blood stains didn't show.

After coming to Palo Alto and moving in with Jessica,, Sam had learned that such trivial details as matching socks and fixing torn-off buttons were important, were _normal_. He'd also learned that normal didn't come as easily as he'd thought it would; there had been much he hadn't known about normal.

Now, Jessica slapped his shoulder. "You will _not_ go to your interview wearing one black and one green sock!"

"Keep my feet warm, won't they?" Sam placed a hand underneath her chin so he could hold her gaze. "Nobody'll notice," he promised. He bent and captured her mouth with his own, silencing her protest.

She resisted a moment, a token rebellion, not willing to give in just yet, but Sam slipped one hand underneath the T-shirt and started drawing circles on the bare skin of her lower back, just above the waistband of her shorts. Jessica uttered a soft sigh and molded herself against him.

"If you want," he murmured against her mouth, fingers dipping beneath the elastic of the boxers," I'll go downstairs and investigate this sock-stealing creature right away." Probably some harmless imp with a craving for dirty socks…

"It can wait," she whispered back.

Sam turned them around and steered her into the bedroom until they reached the bed. Jess fell backwards, laughing, and drew him in, wrapping her legs around his hips. Sam smiled.

And sometimes, _normal_ was really easy.

***


End file.
